Supernatural: Murder House
by GOTwholockedpirate
Summary: This is my first fanfic in a very long time, I'm a fan of spn and just finished AHS, not entirely sure if there are people out there like me that would love to see a crossover, but I just thought there were so many parallels between the first season of AHS and a lot of themes in Spn that a fanfic was the LEAST I could do. I am not a natural born writer but I do very much enjoy it.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue: Marcy

Marcy sighed as she settled into her recliner after another long fruitless day at her real estate job . Beside her was the glass of wine she had poured herself as well as the romance novel she had put off reading for so long because of stress. Her stress as of late stemmed from a single source. For years now, there had been one single bane of her existence that seemed to haunt her wherever she was, even turning her dreams to nightmares. That dreaded house would see her to an early grave she thought gravely as she sipped at her wine. She sighed wistfully at those naive days during which she had eagerly jumped at the opportunity to sell this house. She knew her colleagues—mostly men, sniggered behind her back. The house was haunted, they warned, but she was young, energetic and optimistic. She scoffed at the idea of ghosts, laughing at the weakness of the men whom she thought were disguising their inferiorities and fears with fairytales and campfire stories. Now look at her, old, haggard and mediocre. She had dreams of making it big, having her face on every billboard in the city. She wanted her name to be known, and that house was supposed to be her launching pad. Instead it had robbed her, made a mockery of her and would eventually kill her.

Her mood was completely sour now; she couldn't even look at the book anymore. How stupid of her to lose herself in the world of fiction just because she was too pathetic to attain that sort of romance herself.

"You're a sham." She whispered icily to herself.

Lately, she'd been having thoughts, dangerous thoughts. She didn't know what to do, it was just too tiring, and she had worked so long, _for nothing. _Again, those thoughts came creeping into her mind as she downed her glass of wine and began anticipating another. It wouldn't have to be painful, it cold be the pills in her cabinet, those were strong enough, she could just go to sleep and—

Suddenly the phone rang. She rose out of her chair exasperated and walked over to it.

"Hello," She answered hoarsely, not bothering with the usual real estate formalities. She knew it wasn't a potential client. It never was.

"Is this Macy Handel?" Came a male voice from the other side. The call quality wasn't good, and Macy, felt oddly unsettled.

"Who's asking?" She responded, trying to keep her voice still.

"Are you the one selling the murder house?" The voice ignored her question.

Macy straightened her back, perhaps it was a potential client, but if they were already calling it _murder house…_

"Yes," she replied curtly, "are you looking to buy?"

There was a momentary pause, and Macy thought they'd hung up, but suddenly, the voice returned.

"Yes, as a matter of fact we are." The voice was clear now, even a hint of mischief coloring its tone.

_We_? Macy was shocked, "Oh-well," she stuttered, "That's wonderf—"

"Is it available for viewing tomorrow?" The voice interrupted suddenly.

"To-tomorrow?" That seemed rather sudden, but she couldn't afford to lose this opportunity, perhaps their eagerness was a good sign. "Yes sir, it's certainly available to view tomorrow!"

"Great, how's eleven in the morning sound for you?"

"Perfect," she responded, some of her real estate charm returning. "I'll put you down for eleven!" She looked around frantically for a pen and paper.

"Great." The voice answered, and then the line went dead.

Macy stared at her phone in surprise for a few moments, and then a smile spread across her face. Perhaps this was the chance she had been looking for.


	2. Chapter 2

Motel

Across town, in a run down motel, Dean Winchester finished up a call and walked back into the room he and his brother were sharing.

"I got the appointment with the real estate lady lined up" He said as he closed the door behind him.

Sam Winchester looked up from his laptop at his older brother. "Great," he nodded. He looked back at his screen again, shaking his head. "I seriously can't believe that no other hunters have tried this place Dean," he said scrolling down the page. Dean walked up behind him to look at the screen.

"I mean, all these murders and deaths, there isn't a single record of a family who left that house alive or at the very least the same way they went in."

He stopped at a sepia picture of a couple with a baby.

"These are the first owners—the ones that tour guide mentioned earlier today. Charles and Nora Montgomery."

"Oh yeah, the folks who started performing illegal abortions for young girls." Dean cracked open a can of bear and pulled a seat up beside his brother.

Sam's eyes scanned the page, "Apparently, his wife, overcome be the guilt of all the unborn children she'd aided her husband in killing, and after the brutal murder and dismemberment of their own son by the boyfriend of one of their patients, shot her husband in the head and then offed herself. "

Dean nodded, listening to his brother.

Suddenly, Sam stopped reading. His eyes darted across the page and he began clicking and typing frantically seeming to be searching for something.

"Dean," be began astonished. "You're not going to believe this."

Dean sat forward in his chair, curious. "What is it?'

Sam turned to his older brother; his eyes alight with excitement, "the tour guide didn't mention it today, but there's an unsolved case, with a missing husband, and maid. According to this," he motioned excitedly at his computer, "there was never any bodies found even though the wife was the only one at the house at the time, they could never pin her down or charge he with anything. But get this…"

"Yeah?" Dean pressed on eagerly.

Sam placed his hands flat on the table, and breathed out, "She's still alive."

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"But that's not all." Sam continued. "Guess where she lives?"

Dean felt a shiver up his spine, "where?"

'Next door to the same house."


	3. Chapter 3

The Viewing

Marcy stood at the front of the murder house, anxiously awaiting her potential clients. The man on the phone had said _we _so she expected he would be arriving with his wife, possibly children. She felt a prick of doubt and anxiety at the thought of another family falling victim to the horrors of this house. But she pushed those thoughts down immediately, over the years she had grown to know that these events were more than simple coincidences, she wasn't quite sure how or what logic she used to justified her relentless attempts at selling it, even after every bloody, brutal event. Perhaps the house had taken hold of her in a way she hadn't realized—perhaps she was doing its bidding by bringing it sacrifices—she shuddered at the thought. It always scared her the most when her mind went to such dark places, especially given that she only thought so darkly when she was near this godforsaken place. She looked back at it; disdain and an underlying fear coloring her expression.

Suddenly she was jilted from her thoughts by the loud rumble of an engine approaching. She sighed and rolled her eyes, what hoodlums were making their ways through this neighborhood at this hour. She clutched her purse firmly to her side, feeling reassured by the presence of her automatic.

The rumble only grew louder, and soon, Marcy could spot the source of the offending sound making its way down the street. She glared at vehicle as it approached but was overcome but a foreboding as she realized it was slowing down.

When the car came to a stop directly in front of her, she felt all hope was lost. She should have known, it was probably another bunch of pranksters, out looking for ghosts or whatnot.

She could feel her anger building up as the doors swung open on both sides.

However, her anger simmered when she saw the two faces of occupants of the vehicle.

One of them was shorter with short light hair and dazzling green eyes. His companion was taller with more hair, somewhat awkward but nevertheless handsome.

Marcy felt her breath escape her lungs in a rush, "Well," she breathed out huskily, "you have to be the most attractive gay couple I have ever seen." She said laughing.

The face of the shorter one dropped suddenly, and he shuffled uncomfortably. His partner seemed less uncomfortable and more amused, furrowing his eyebrows to hide his smile.

"Have I said something wrong?' She asked innocently, you never could tell with these people, they were always so easily offended.

The taller one spoke up, "actually ma'am, we aren't a couple" He extended a hand "I'm Jordan Scott, this is my associate Alex Hunt," We're here as purchasers* in place of our client who's looking to buy a house. He's what you might call well known, so he's hired us to do most of the ground work."

Marcy eyed them suspiciously, they seemed clean enough, the tall one wore a sports jacket with jeans, and his partner wore a leather jacket, "you don't look like typical purchasers," she said continuing to eye them.

The shorter one spoke this time flashing her a brilliant smile, "well ma'am, I can assure you that we have all the appropriate documentation if you should be interested." His voice was low and husky which Marcy found oddly pleasing.

"Hm," she stated feigning disinterest. "Very well then, follow me." She turned and sashayed towards the house. The boys followed close behind looking around the property.

She stopped at the door and turned to them again, "I'm assuming you're well aware of the reputation this house holds," she stated, her hand resting on the door handle.

The boys both seemingly distracted snapped their attentions to her.

"Uh-yeah! Of course," Jordan began, "our uh-client, is a bit of an enthusiast about this stuff you know." They both smiled politely at her.

She narrowed her eyes at them, still suspicious but opened the door regardless. She wasn't entirely sure what their purpose was, but they certainly weren't interested in buying. That much she could tell. She clutched her purse tighter, keeping her protection close.

"Well," she stated, as they entered the main foyer, "we'll begin here." She turned on the spot her eyes going over the all too familiar wood walls and tiffany chandeliers. "This house, as you're probably well aware, has quite the history—most of it unfortunate," she snorted.

Somehow it felt freeing not having to pretend this house wasn't a horror show. Even though she knew she wouldn't be selling it, she felt free leaving all the bullshit and pretenses at the front door.

She looked at the boys, both spaced out across the room, and yet again distracted and looking around very attentively.

"Well, you seem to be doing well on your own," she stated bluntly, "shall I just leave and come back later?"

The boys turned to her again, and then to each other, "I'm not actually serious." She stated.

The tall one furrowed his eyebrows, "Marcy," he began, walking up to her, "can you tell us if there's anyone currently, seriously interested in this house?"

She had to hold back a rough laugh, "Ahem," she said clearing a throat, "Well, there have been viewings, it is a very beautiful property at a fantastic price. You should be aware in your position that houses like these don't stay too long on the property." She adjusted her hair trying to keep her cool composure.

Jordan and Alex both looked at each other, they tried o keep their faces blank but she could sense and that they were unsettled.

"Well would you like to look at the rest of the house?" She asked motioning to the stairs.

"Can you tell us what happened to the last family that lived here?" Alex asked suddenly.

Marcy sighed exasperated, whatever games these boys were playing she was growing tired of it. "They left." She stated.

The boys stared at her, both furrowing their eyebrows. "You mean they aren't dead?"

Marcy glared at Jordan, "no." She stated, her tone colder. "Now are you boys actually interested in this house or are you here to waste my time?"

Jordan shuffled uncomfortably, sensing the irritation in her voice, "we're very sorry to be bogging you down with these mundane questions," he stated his voice calm and apologetic, his partner stepped up. "Our client, is somewhat obsessed, and wanted us to find out everything we could about the place, he's very enthusiastic about it. If you'd like we could put him on the phone for you." He finished flashing a cellphone. They both exchanged quick glances.

She sighed; she was getting too old for this. "The previous occupants were a family of three, a man his wife and their teenage son. They didn't last a night here; they weren't even fully dressed when they drove off in the middle of the night."

Both boys raised their eyebrows genuinely surprised. Alex glanced at his brother and then smiled crookedly at her, "you wouldn't happen to have their contact info would you?"

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable disclosing that with you."

"We understand completely," Jordan began, in his usual placating tone "however, it would make things so much easier and quicker for us-especially since you stated that there are other prospective buyers looking into the house."

Marcy sighed again. "Well technically their names are still on the paperwork. They simply expressed that they want absolutely nothing to do with it anymore." She reached into her purse and pulled out a pen and pad. On it she scribbled the number of the homeowners.

"Stacey and Miguel Ramos." She said, handing them the paper. She didn't care about what these boys were interested in, it wouldn't be the first time she had put a family in harms way, wouldn't be the first time she had put the Ramos family in harms way.

"Now if you boys excuse me, I have other businesses to conduct." She walked back to the front door opening it. "If you—or rather_ your client _is truly interested in buying this house, you have my number." She motioned towards the yard; the boys nodded and proceeded out the house.

(*okay, I don't actually know what the official term for people who house hunt for other people is lol, but uhm yeah. That's What Dean and Sam are pretending to be...hope you enjoyed!)


	4. Chapter 4

(This may have a few spelling errors cause its quite late and I'm too tired to read it over xD, plus its one of my longer chapters)

Stacey Ramos

Sam and Dean walked back to their car silently as Marcy locked up the house behind them.

"Well that was surprisingly fruitful." Sam said as he closed the car door after him. His brother nodded, his expression conveying contentment as he started the car.

Marcy walk off the property, they both smiled waved at he as she emerged. She rolled her eyes and turned away.

"She's an odd lady that one." Dean stated as he peeled away. Sam sighed and nodded silently in agreement. Then remembering, he reached into his jacket and pulled out the slip of paper Marcy had given them.

"Speaking of which," he said eyeing the paper. "We need to get in touch with these people ASAP. They're the only known survivors of that house, whatever they saw that drove them out within 24 hours is going to be important to our search."

"I here ya, Sammy," Dean responded sitting back in his car seat, "that house is definitely messed up-there's an energy in there. Whatever it is. It's not your typical run-of-the-mill haunted house."

Sam pondered fiddling with the paper, we should get back to the hotel and I'll see if I can find an address with this phone number."

"I guess we'll have to look into that old murdering broad tomorrow then." Dean added.

"What if Marcy is around?" Sam asked, "She did say she has other people interested, she might see spot and get even more suspicious."

Dean scoffed, "the old lady was lying through her teeth. I hear that when you sell someone a place, you have to disclose any incidents that happened with the last tenants. Who in their right mind would take the place knowing the people who used to live there couldn't even stand it for 24 hours. Plus why else would she entertain us when she was so suspicious, if she wasn't so desperate to get rid of it."

"Makes sense," Sam responded.

Ten minutes later, the two pulled up to the motel. Sam rushed in to quickly do a search on the Ramos' number while his brother waited in the car.

Less than ten minutes later, he returned his expression triumphant. "Found it." He said smiling excitedly as he awkwardly climbed into the car.

"Awesome. Where to little bro?" Dean revved up the engine.

"Wait Dean, we have to change up our disguises. I don't think they'll appreciate us going there as purchasers looking to pry into their traumatic memories for our client."

Dean let out an irritated breath his head falling against the headrest.

"FBI?" He suggested.

Sam nodded. Dean turned off the car engine, both returned to their rooms, changed and within moments were peeling out of the motel parking lot.

"Can I help you?" A woman stood behind her partially opened door, peering suspiciously at the two brothers.

Both in practiced unison flipped their fake FBI badges at her.

"Hello ma'am." Dean began, "we're with the FBI. I'm Agent McCloud and this is my partner, Agent Stevenson."

He's brother picked up the script, "we're here about some cold case murder investigations at your previous residence…" He finished his tone insinuating.

The woman flinched, but opened the door wider.

"Wh-what do we have to do with any murders in that horrible house?" She asked, her voice shaking.

"You have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Ramos." Sam responded, "this is all just clerical formalities, we just want to ask a few questions and we'll be on our way. He smiled soothingly at her.

The woman stepped to the side welcoming them in.

"My husband and son are out right now, is that okay?"

Both Dean and Sam looked at each other, "it should be fine." Sam stated uncertainly.

"Please have a seat then, she motioned to the dining table in the kitchen. The house was not nearly as spacious as the previous one.

"I'm sorry about this place," She began embarrassment evident in her tone; this was the best we could afford with the other house draining our funds. She sat down at the table with the boys and let out a tired sigh. "Our life has been absolute hell since we signed onto that house. Even after leaving," she wrung her hands anxiously, "things just haven't been the same." She looked up at them with tired, troubled eyes.

Sam and Dean did their best to muster sympathetic but professional expressions.

"We're very sorry about what you had to go through Mrs. Ra-"

"Stacey." She interrupted, her voice cracking.

Sam smiled encouragingly, "we're very sorry for your ordeals Stacey."

"If it isn't too much to ask," Dean cut on in cue. "Would you mind telling us what exactly happened to leave such—traumatic scars for you?"

Stacey let out worn out laugh. "You'll think I'm crazy, all our family thought we were crazy."

Dean nodded sympathetically, and gave a small smile. "We'll be the judges of that."

She swallowed nervously, and continued wringing her hands.

"Well," she began shakily, when we first saw the house, we thought it was too good to be true. I mean the property alone was worth more than we were paying for the entire thing, so naturally we jumped at the opportunity. A couple weeks later we were moved in. the first couple of hours were fun, I remember our son Gabriel skate boarding through the house, and thinking that it was something I'd have to talk to him about soon enough. The kitchen," she paused taking in a ragged breath, "the kitchen was beautiful. It's the first place I went, and I didn't want to leave it" she said smiling to herself." We settled in, without a single problem, everyone was tucked safely in bed." She paused again, her eyes growing more troubled.

"Then in the middle of the night I woke up suddenly, and realized my husband wasn't beside me when I reached out to touch him. I was so groggy I didn't think anything of it. I thought he was probably in the washroom or something. And then suddenly, I felt someone on top of me. At first I thought it was my husband fooling around but it didn't feel right, and when I opened my eyes-." She drew in a sharp breath. Dean and Sam leaned in closer, captivated by the story.

"I opened my eyes, and on top of me was a man—someone—_something_, in—" her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to recollect, "I think it was a latex body suit, only the eyes were visible and he was just on top of me."

"I had never been more afraid in my life, I thought it was a rapist. I threw everything I could grab at him, I picked up the phone to call 911, but the line was dead. I was just in a complete and total panic."

"I managed to get out of the bedroom, I called out for Miguel—my husband, but didn't hear from him." She held back a cry, "I was sure my family was dead."

"And he kept chasing me, he tried to grab me, trip me, I just kept running. At one point I was running through the hallway, and the attic stairs came crashing down. And something came down after. It looked like a deformed person, with long dirty hair and—it was in chains."

Dean and Sam's forehead creased as the woman's story developed.

'Eventually I ended up in the basement, cornered by the man in the suit. "I thought it was the end, and I was so scared and _so confused." _

To my relief Miguel suddenly showed up and he ran to me and we held each other, then suddenly, a woman in white appeared out of nowhere. She and the person in the suit exchanged angry words, and he took off his mask, and it was a man after all. And the suddenly she cut open his stomach with a knife." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "I can still remember his intestines spilling out." She said her face scrunched up in disgust.

"And then he shot her in the head all of a sudden." I was surprised that he didn't fall over dead immediately, after that they were both on the floor. We thought they were dead, but they suddenly stood back up."

"And I remember the woman saying, "This is what this house does to you, she told us to get out. She was warning us."

"So we left, we called for Gabriel when we were in the car, he came clambering out looking just as terrified as we were. Later when we sat down and talked, we realized we had all encountered different spirits. My son met two teenagers in his room, one girl, and a boy—who tried to kill him. My husband had woken up in a daze and gone down to the kitchen were he saw the woman in white, an old redheaded lady in a maids outfit, and a woman who was so badly burned her skin was still smoldering."

She shivered as if trying to shake the memories off. 'And that's it. We couldn't file a police report, the found nothing in the house, but we know what we saw."

Sam and Dean sat back in their chairs they looked to each other, and then back to Stacey. "Well Stacey," Sam began, "that is quite the experience you and your family had."

She looked up at them in disbelief, "you believe me?"

Sam shrugged and smiled wryly, "lets just say in our line of work, we aren't unaccustomed to the unusual."

Stacey seemed confused for a moment but brushed it aside, "so what about these murders or deaths then, is it about the people who lived there before us? —It's a tragedy what happened. Have they found the daughter and son yet?"

The brothers looked up at her quizzically, "I beg you pardon?" Dean asked, almost out of character.

She seemed perplexed at their confusion. "Well, I thought you were here for the Harmons, the mother died in childbirth inside the house, and the husband hung himself days later, but they haven't found the baby that was born or their oldest daughter."

Dean leaned forward, "oh of course" he replied regaining his composure. "Truth be told, we've only just started on this case, so we have a lot of catching up to do."

Stacey nodded, "well what ever happened, something isn't right about that. Especially with the history in that house and what we—what we went through. I can't imagine what they endured to end up like that."


	5. Chapter 5

Omg I can't believe people are actually interested in this? This was like the dorkiest idea but I'm so happy people are interested? I really hope I can keep meeting your expectations *A* enjoy!

Chapter 5:

Later that night, the brothers sat in their motel room stewing over the day's events and all the information they had on the murder house.

"So what do we have?" Dean asked taking a swig of his beer.

Sam sighed looking at the notes he'd compiled before him on his bed. "Well, we know of roughly 15 deaths in that house since it was built, and that doesn't even include missing persons. We also know that a handful of those spirits could be potential murder victims, which makes for the perfect vengeful ghost. Even still, given some of these background stories, some of these suicides might also call for some angry spirits."

He picked up one of the papers reading over it, "like this one for example." He began, "this lady set herself and two daughters on fire while her husband was still in the house. Some of the forums talk about a possible affair or unhappy marriage."

"Even with the Harmons, I found a closed missing person's report with the husband involved. Apparently, one of his students had gone missing after coming to visit him, but the case was dropped randomly."

"And the old lady who may have kill her husband and maid. Not even a year ago her boy friend was found cut up in pieces miles away from a house. He was cut up the same way as the girl in the 'Black Dahlia case' who went to a dentist working out of the murder house and was never seen again."

"Dean" he said dropping the papers, "this is some messed up stuff. If anything Stacey Ramos said is true, then we have multiple vengeful, _angry_ spirits to deal with."

Dean sighed massaging the bridge of the nose, "I agree but the one thing that keeps bothering me, is why the hell they keep dying at _this _house. What's so special about it. What kind of crazy hoo-doo shit is going on in there that people are offing each other or themselves?"

Sam shrugged, "we'll have to find out when we scope it out tomorrow, I feel like this might be one of the messiest cases we have to deal with."

"You got that right." Dean stood up from his chair at the table, he dropped his empty bottle in the sink and went to flop down on his bed.

"Get some sleep Sammy," he muffled through his pillow. "We have a long day tomorrow."

"Make that a long week," Sam retorted as he moved to turn off the lamplight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Constance**

Sam and Dean sat in the Chevy impala parked on the other side of the street from the murder house. Together they kept an eye on the house the woman they were looking for was believed to live in.

"He name is Constance Langdon," Sam explained as they waited, "she has a bit of a history. She had four kids with her husband, but all of them are deceased. After her boyfriend was chopped up a couple years ago she's been living alone since."

"Her missing husband and chopped up boyfriend aren't even the craziest stories in her life. In 1994, her son Tate Langdon shot up his school killing a bunch of students, right before that he set his stepdad on fire. When he was done, the cops came for him and shot him dead in his bedroom."

"Jesus. This lady seems to be at the center of this shit storm." Dean responded his eyes scanning the streets.

"Hey," he stated suddenly remembering something.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Didn't Stacy say, that a teenage male ghost tried to kill her son?"

Sam paused contemplating, "You think it's him?"

"God knows a shit ton of people have died in that house, but the kid responsible for killing a bunch of other kids trying to kill one more isn't too much of a stretch."

"Yeah," Sam added, "The Harmon's had a teenage daughter too, and she's missing."

"If that girl is dead, I'll bet my ass the kid's ghost had something to do with it." Dean finished.

Suddenly, a woman came into view heading towards their target house. Dean nudged his brother.

"Blonde, elderly lady, you think that's her?"

Sam turned his gaze to where his brother's was, "why is she pushing a stroller though?"

They both watched in baited silence as the woman approached. As expected, she turned into the house they were spying on.

"Its now or never little bro." Dean said opening his door.

"Yeah, right behind you." Sam said following.

They walked up to the door and knocked.

It swung open and behind it, in a fitted lilac dress, stood an older looking woman, dyed blonde hair done up perfectly and a lit cigarette dangling from her painted red lips. When she spotted the boys a languidly coy smile spread across her features.

Dean cleared his throat to hide his surprise, "Are you-uh Constance Langdon?" He asked his voice rough.

"Well, well, well" She said, a slight Louisiana accent drawling out her words playfully, "two gorgeous men in suits, and its hardly noon. Today must be my lucky day." She chuckled playfully, while taking a long drag of her cigarette.

Dean cleared his throat, a small blush creeping up his neck.

Sam tried to ignore his brother's obvious disconcertion, although he himself was taken aback by the woman's shameless flirting.

"Uh-uhm," he cleared his throat, "hello ma'am. I'm Agent Stevenson and this is my partner Agent McCloud, we're with the FBI and we're here to ask you a few questions about your missing husband."

Her expression turned sour quickly and she yanked the cigarette from her lips, "Again?" she asked hoarsely.

Dean and Sam were taken aback by her response. "Have you had the FBI talk to you already?" Dean ask, some of his composure regained.

Constance sighed, "I've had everyone here," a little of her flirty tone returned. "And I've told you people a _million times _I don't know where my useless, cheating husband and that cheap harlot he ran off with are." A small smile played across her lips at the mention of her husband.

"Mama." The sound of a young child came suddenly from behind her.

Constance turned back startled, "Oh baby!" She cried, her voice instantly taking on a surprising maternal tone, "aren't you supposed to be napping my little prince?" She went to pick him and walked back to her door with the small blonde boy in her arms.

"You have a son?" Dean asked narrowing his eyes.

Constance looked between the two men, never maintaining eye contact. "I adopted him," she explained. "The son of a dead distant relative—a tragic car accident." She brushed the boy's hair out of his eyes gently. "He's the best thing that ever happened to me," she finished her voice dropping to a whisper.

"He's very cute," Sam cut in, his tone friendly, "how old is he?"

Constance turned to Sam sharply, her eyes staring daggers into him.

"One and a half." She replied curtly. "And if you don't mind officers, I have a life to live, so unless you plan on arresting me, I'd appreciate it if you would get of my property."

"Just one more question Ms. Langdon." Dean added quickly.

Constance sighed and readjusted the boy on her hips.

"What can you tell us about the Harmon family?"

Constance stopped moving for a moment, contemplating the question. She took a look drag of her cigarette and blew it away from the boy to keep the smoke out of his eyes.

"What on earth are you asking me about them for?" She responded dryly. Sighing, she continued. "They were a lovely family, it's horrible what happened to them, blah, blah, blah."

She smiled coyly again, "out of anyone that's ever lived in that house next to me," she added, "I feel I've had the most intimate connection with them."

Both Dean and Sam narrowed their eyes suspiciously.

"Anymore questions?" She asked insinuating an end to the conversation.

Having no more questions the two brothers bid her goodbye and headed back to their car.

"That kid is definitely not hers." Dean stated as they settled into their seats.

"Yeah," Sam added, "her story seems a bit far fetched. " He paused for a moment mulling over a thought, "is it me or is it weird that the kid she adopted is around the same age the Harmon's missing baby would be now?"

"It's certainly a weird coincidence" Dean responded starting the engine. 'Let's back to the motel," he continued, "Gather our thoughts come up with how we're going to deal with this spooky house."


End file.
